One More Time With Feeling
by flirtandflounce
Summary: Thinking back, Quinn was certain that those three words were the reason. The reason for everything.


**Title:** One More Time With Feeling

**Author:** flirtandflounce

**Rating:** T

**Characters:** Quinn Fabray, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry, Sam Evans

**Spoilers:** Through Born This Way

**Summary:** Thinking back, Quinn was certain that those three words were the reason. The reason for everything.

**Notes:** Enjoy! Just a one-shot that I wrote out in about an hour to two. Nothing special. There are (I'm sure) a few errors here and there. I'll try to fix them!

_say it in your mind until you know that the words are right _

Quinn Fabray was sure Finn Hudson was the one.

With his infectious grin and sheepish dance movies, he was _exactly_ the type of boy she had always expected to marry. He would hold her close, whisper in her ear that everything was okay. She would feel warm, she would feel content, she would feel at home. They'd sing cute little, birds-chirping love songs and walk off into the sunset.

Noah Puckerman, though, was exactly what she _did not_ think was the one. He was rough, rash, and he most certainly was _not_ the marrying type. But he was the bad boy, the one who you felt like you could have one foot in his world and the other in your own. Dipping your toe into the water that was tainted, letting yourself think that for just one moment, you weren't that goody two shoes who blushed at a swear word.

Quinn Fabray was sure that was the reason she slept with him.

…

There were other reasons, too. She was drunk, for one. And it was the anniversary of her surgery.

"_Tell me one more time,"_

"_You're not fat." _

After she left that night, feeling ashamed but even a little bit exhilarated, she peeked up at the sky. A full moon. She had never felt so alone.

Thinking back, Quinn was certain that those three words were the reason. The reason for everything.

…

Even after the pregnancy fiasco, in which Quinn had became nothing more than notch on the 'teenage pregnancy' statistics poll, she still thought Finn could be the one. Even after watching Rachel Berry hanging off of him and making _her Finn_ laugh and kissing _her Finn _and holding _her Finn_ close, it tore her apart. She still thought of him as _hers._

Sam Evans was pretty, a little more stupid than Finn, and he was sweet. He wanted to be with her. He was excited to be with her.

But he was not Finn.

He wasn't Puck.

…

When Quinn found out Puck started dating Lauren Zizes, she rolled her eyes and said, "Good luck getting into her oversized pants."

Santana had laughed, cruelly.

When Quinn got home that night, she threw her brush at the mirror. It shattered to a million tiny pieces.

…

She sat and stared into the mirror, her stomach flipping. Her hair was perfect. Not a single piece of out place. And yet there she sat, unable to stop fixing it, brushing it, spraying hairspray into it until she was sure it wouldn't even move if she was on that rollercoaster Mercedes took her on the week after she gave birth.

"You look great Q," Sam was standing behind her, his hands resting on the back of the chair.

She felt his hand rest on her shoulder. She jerked away. "I look terrible," Before Sam could answer, Mr. Schue poked his head in the door, "Guys, you're up!"

Sam moved away, holding his hand out for her to take. Quinn just stared, through the mirror. She couldn't take it, "I'll be right behind you."

It took everything for her not to run out of that auditorium.

He still wasn't _him (Puck)._

…

Her sights were set on Finn again. And she had him wrapped around her finger _again_.

The way he looked at her again, she was certain he'd believe anything she said. Like getting pregnant in a hot tub.

Everything felt so familiar. She had it all, _again_.

…

After quitting the Cheerios, Quinn gained three pounds.

She'd been at a constant weight since August, not gaining, not losing. She looked healthy. But now, as she stared into the mirror in the girls restroom on the second floor, all Quinn could see was her.

_Lucy_.

…

After she lost Prom Queen and Finn dumped her in front of the entire school, Quinn sat on the steps outside. Her blue dress, which cost a fortune and had been specially fitted for her exactly, was resting in the muddy puddles. She wasn't crying anymore, but the black dried mascara stains were evidence enough.

The moon hung above, full and foreboding. _You should have known_, she thought.

Alone again.

…

Suddenly it was Nationals and Quinn was in New York City. She'd never been to the city before and it made her feel so suddenly free and imprisoned at the same time.

They toured Broadway, Quinn standing in the back with Rachel, who had somehow, in some strange way, become her friend over the entire ordeal. As Quinn had fallen from grace once again, it was Rachel to pick her up, dust off her knees and tell her to keep her chin up. They would be better then the rest of them one day.

Quinn knew Rachel belonged on Broadway, in the Big Apple. It hurt her, almost, to see Rachel standing in the lobby of those huge theatres, beaming. She was a star. And Quinn? Quinn was nothing.

Except maybe a former pregnant teenager, whose baby just happened to be living just down the block from that exact theatre.

She couldn't catch Puck's eye.

…

They lost Nationals. Even with the tutelage of Jesse St. James, they still couldn't manage to defeat the blood thirty Vocal Adrenaline.

Quinn cared this time, though. A little too much.

She was drunk, sitting on the balcony of her hotel room, staring out at the street that was still so vibrant at three o'clock in the morning.

She hadn't been drunk since the party at Rachel's all those months ago. She was swearing, ranting and waving the bottle of Jack Daniels around in the air as she verbally assaulted everything and everyone in her path.

Rachel sat patiently on the edge of the bed, looking down at her hands. She still hadn't changed from her costume- a beautiful mauve dress that had looked perfect until she had trapped it behind in the door and ripped it in half.

"And you know what else?" Quinn droned on, half-laughing and half-crying. "I'm fucking sick and tired of it."

"Of what?" Rachel whispered.

Quinn looked over at her, surprised, she spat, "What do you think?"

Rachel shrugged and didn't look up.

"I have a baby girl, a daughter, who probably isn't even a baby anymore and she is just a mile away! She probably doesn't even know who I am…"

At the end of the night, it took Puck to wrap his arms around her waste and bring her back into the room. She cried into his grey t-shirt. He held her close all night.

…

They were back in Lima. It was July.

She sat outside on her deck, in her tiny little bikini that she knew she looked _fantastic_ in. But as great as she looked, as kind as she was, she couldn't get it back. Quinn had lost it all, _again_.

Her mom had wandered on to the deck at almost six o'clock, "Quinnie, you've been sitting out here for hours. You must be fried."

Quinn looked down at her stomach. Red.

Good, she thought, Maybe that'll catch their attention. Quinn Fabray, lobster extraordinaire.

…

"I understand your need to for attention, as a future Broadway star and currently lead vocalist of New Directions, I can identify with your desire for the spotlight. But, as your friend, I think it's unhealthy."

Rachel was leaning against the door of the dressing room as Quinn stood inside, pulling on dress after countless dress. She continued, "And I don't think that putting on a sexy dress and strutting around the party is going to catch his attention."

Quinn paused, "And exactly who are you talking about?"

Her friend sighed, "Come on Quinn."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Quinn zipped the dress up tightly, looking in the mirror and grinning. "I've found the perfect one."

…

"Woah Quinn," Finn, who had his arm around Rachel's tiny waist stood in front of her door, his eyes widening.

Rachel looked at her friend warily. "Are you sure you're okay wearing that?"

"Nonsense," Quinn waved it off, taking a step onto her porch, careful not to twist her ankle in the heels. She closed the door softly behind her. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Finn mumbled quickly, scratching the back of his head. They had forgiven each other. They knew what had happened last Spring was a mistake. Finn and Quinn were not meant to be. "Puck's in the car."

Quinn's heart stopped, her eyes flickered to the familiar red pickup sitting in her driveway. Puck had one hand rested on the steering wheel, the other messing around with the radio. He looked frustrated.

"Well let's go then!" Quinn covered, brushing past them to walk out to the car. She would not be seen as weak.

…

It was the first conversation they'd had since the pregnancy.

Quinn sat on the bed of his truck, her heels lying on the ground, forgotten. She swung her legs back and forth, staring up at the moon.

Puck sat next to her, but not close enough to touch.

"We should have visited her," Puck mumbled, out of nowhere.

"I know," Quinn answered, knowing exactly who he was talking about. That was the thing between them, they never had to say a lot of words. It was simpler that way.

"This was some year, huh?" Puck asked, completely sober for the first time ever at a party. Well, they hadn't exactly gone inside yet. He'd grabbed her wrist as they climbed out of the truck, pulling her to the back. She didn't have control of herself as she followed him.

She nodded, "Some year."

Puck and Lauren had broken up. They didn't work out, too much bad-ass between them, or at least that's what he claimed. Quinn knew better.

She took a chance, "We'll always come back to this, won't we?"

He didn't answer at first, but as he slid his fingers between hers, Quinn knew the answer. Before she knew what was happening, she had rested her head on his shoulder and she could almost, barely hear him whisper, "Always."

Finn wasn't the one. He never was.


End file.
